In The Moments We Share
by Sassafrass Starlight
Summary: All it takes is a well inspired moment to pull down the thickest wall. RanxGin **Updated 11/16**
1. Responsibilities

Author's Notes: This is my first publishing of a fan fict. of any type, so reader response would be loved beyond anything. While I tried to keep to character as decently as possible, I won't deny that there maybe some OCness. Constructive crit. only; No flames . . . If something is unappealing or bad, explain so I can work on it. All the characters, save one, are actual names mentioned throughout the manga. An e-cookie for the first one to get it right :p

This is a two part story of the lonely winter's night that gave birth to Squad Three's insignia. It is labeled T in this section for suggestive content.

The all important disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its characters, though if I could make a wish. . .

* * *

Part One:

_Responsibilities _

* * *

". . . and, by the way, I opened up the mess hall to all divisions. No need to have everyone scattered over break,"

"That's very generous of you, Ticho, givin' all the left-overs a place to go while the rest are away," Ichimaru Gin glanced out the window, inwardly frowning as another layer of snow dusted over the courtyard.

"It makes it easier on everyone, honestly," replied Aizen Souske as he brushed his initials to one of many placement request forms. "and allows us to keep an eye out for any _unique_ individuals,"

"_Unique_, eh?" Gin turned the transcript around, curious to why something with the Academy's emblem would require a Captain's signature. Skimming over the list of satisfied and exceed requirements, he didn't even bother with the list of references. "This one's gonna graduate early. Snatchin' her up before someone else catches wind?"

"Hinamori, Momo? Not even. She's had eyes only for Fifth Squad for quite some time now. '_Inspired_' by our rescue, or so I've been told," Amusement danced in Aizen's voice.

The tone sent pins to Gin's core. "More like _enthralled_," commented the Lieutenant. If only other people knew what lurked behind that well chiseled mask.

"Enthralled indeed," mused Aizen, searching through the pile. "Here's the other one, Kira Izuru, graduating at the top of his class with a transcript even more impressive then that of Hinamori-chan's. I thought he'd be rather useful as well, though, I think his interests are due to more personal reasons. I think the other one has a future in Squad Eleven, a bit thick headed for my taste," handing the packet over to his second-in-command, Aizen watched unfocused eyes courteously skim over the text, not registering anything in particular. "Blissfully ignorant, but efficient; very good at doing that he's told. Well suited for you after the promotion, I think. He's a _pretty_ boy too,"

Gin grimaced at the implication and dropped the papers on the desk. "Ticho, that's nasty,"

Aizen laughed at his fukiticho's reaction. "I just wanted to provoke something sincere, Gin, don't take it to heart. Besides, I have something I need you to do for me tonight. It's the reason why I ask you to stop by," Aizen removed his Captain's jacket, hanging it on the wall next to his desk. Without the distinction, he looked like any of the masses under command of the Gotei Thirteen. "I will be going out tonight, leaving the compound in your capable hands. Of course, this is on an 'need-to-know' basis-"

"And no one else needs to know?" chimed in Gin, recovering his trademark grin.

"Exactly," agreed the Captain. "Now then, there's been some loitering in the hall well after hours. I don't specifically mind that, however, the drinking games I do. Make sure any disruptions are kept to a minimum and the parties responsible are out at a decent hour,"

"Doesn't sound too difficult," said Gin as he started for the door, "I'll be sure to keep a tight wrap on things 'till ya come back, no worries,"

"Don't do anything stupid, Ichimaru-fukiticho," added Aizen, removing his glasses.

"Aizen-ticho, you know me better then that. Go an' enjoy yourself," Gin started to close the door behind him, "Oh! And if you see Sakura-chan, give her a pinch for me!"

The door snapped shut and Ichimaru's footsteps faded away. "I do know you, Gin, that's the problem . . ." muttered the man with a sigh.

-

-

-

The snow fell steadily that evening. If it wasn't for the traditions imported from the living world, the courtyard outside Gin's window would have been etched with the travels of fellow squad members. He could imagine the complaints rolling in within the next few days. By now, the white powder had piled up just below the veranda decks, with wind blown drifts scattered along their length. In the morning, there would be a pile pushed against his door at least a few inches high. Squad Four had their work cut out for them this year.

Leaning back in the chair, Gin stretched his arms overhead and yawned. It was good to be lazy once in a while. The scroll of incantations lay open on the same section started hours before. He had some intention of reviewing the advanced kido spells, at least, until he was sure that he was truly alone. His captain had an annoying habit of showing up at inconvenient times and, despite the Captain's quarters being directly across the courtyard, Gin never saw the man leave.

When the clock tower chimed two hours till midnight, the lieutenant decided it was time to make way to the mess hall. Any type of food service stopped a half hour ago, giving late comers time to eat and get back to their sentry posts. Standing up, the shinigami yawned again and scratched himself through the neck of the kimono. After resetting the disheveled garment, Gin slid open the door to a bitter wind and his fifth seat.

"Ichimaru-fukiticho! Good Evening Sir,"

"Ahh, good evenin' Sora-san. Isn't it a lil' late to be wanderin' around?"

"Some would say it's a little early, Sir," The shinigami mused, "My shift started an hour ago; my turn for patrol for tonight,"

Gin chuckled and stepped out, closing the door promptly behind him. "Well then, I shouldn't be holdin' you up. Gotta get goin' anyway, duty calls."

"Heading over to the dinning hall?"

Now the fukiticho's interest was peaked. "Now, why would I be headin' to the dinning hall , Sora-san?" A wide smile stretched across his face.

"Late night snack?" Smirked the officer with a half hearted laugh turned real when the superior officer chimed in. In a recovery motion, he ran a hand through his dark hair and scratched the back of his head.

Gin was amused, though it wasn't the comment. His underlings reaction held traces of guilt in his slip of tongue. It was fun watching his lame attempt to side step the subject. The opportunity was too good to pass up. "Let's go get us a snack then, shall we?"

On the walk across squad grounds, Gin let his companion do most of the talking. Sora seemed to unwind after the first few moments, filling them with the story of how he came to work night shift. According to his story, he was covering for a friend so he could go home for the 'holiday'. Gin figured he lost a bet during the mess hall mischief. Could the blurted phrase been a spiteful tattle in disguise? The prospect was delicious. He was enjoying getting to know Sora Akira, fifth seat of Squad Five. Perhaps he wouldn't be needing Kira Izuru after all.

"It's been enjoyable, Ichimaru-fukiticho," Sora said as they approached the building in question, "But unfortunately, I must continue my rounds,"

"Your rounds don' include the inside of buildings?"

"Of course they do, Sir," Sorta replied reluctantly, "but I started a little-"

"Then make it quick," interrupted Gin, determined not to let potential entertainment get away. Bypassing the conflicted young man, Gin motioned for him to follow before sliding a hand back inside the sleeve. A half muffled groan followed behind with shuffled footsteps.

-

-

-

"Kiku no hana . . . Kiku no hana," started a deep voice dramatically. A cup was chosen, fingers itching to turn it over. Raising his voice over the drumming hands on the table, he grinned triumphantly. "Akete tanoshii, KIKU NO HANA!"

The cup was flipped over to reveal nothing underneath. Discouraged groans and boos flooded in from spectators. All Hisagi Shuuhei could do was frown.

"Geeze Hisagi, way to be full of hot air," taunted Tatsuhusa Enjyouji, digging an elbow into his friend's side playfully.

"Awww, it's okay," comforted a lightly flushed Matsumoto Rangiku from across the table. Reaching out, she picked up a sake bottle from the stockpile in the middle. "Everyone knows that when it comes to things like this, you're always better the more you have!" When the bottle tilted to Hisagi's cups, less then mouth full trickled out.

" . . . "

"Damn, I guess the Sake gods are really hating on you tonight," frowned Rangiku, "Oi, Iba-san, can you hand me another one from under there?"

The young man at the end of the table extended his arm underneath and pulled up a green bottle. Before reaching over the person next to him, passing it to the hostess, Iba Tetsuzaemon stopped. Pointing the corked end at the gap in Rangiku's uniform, he asked why she didn't use her own before she snatched the bottle by the neck from his hand.

"This," she said proudly, "Is my special reserve!" Cupping her bosom on ether side, she lifted and pushed them together, emphasizing the a clay flask that bulged out from the cleavage, "For use only in the most dire of circumstances!"

"That sure is 'special' alright," muttered Tetsuo Momohara, his eyes drooling at the presentation next to him.

"You have no idea how special," giggled a very flushed Kotetsu Isane from her spot between Tetsuo and Iba. The table in front of her hosted two and a half empty bottles and a two thirds full cup of sake, evidence of who had won the last two games of Kiku no hana. "It's like _living world_ special," Her washed over eyes widening with the emphasis.

"Isane-chaaaan," whined Rangiku, popping off the cork and throwing it at her friend, "You're not so pose to tell!"

"Sound's like someones been naughty on field trips," grinned Hisagi, slowly recovering his demeanor.

"Good girls are bad ones that don't get caught," Rangiku smiled back, filling her friend's cup then her own. "Now, who's turn was it?"

The tray circled the table with no winners. When it was pushed in front of Iba, he grunted in frustration. Trying as hard as he could, the shinigami made his best selection and, like all its predecessors, yielded nothing. Cursing, he dropped a fist on the table.

"Don't worries Iba-kun, you just stink at this game," sliding the tray over to her, Kotetsu eyed the rows of over turned cups, "You need to be skilled, like me. Isn't that right, **Kiku no hana**?!" she squeaked before throwing her finger tips around the base of a cup and lifting it.

"Guess you're just as bad as the rest of us," commented Iemura Yasochika with a smile.

"But I was so sure it was here . . . " Kotetsu pouted. As quick as the giddy expression faded, it resurface as the cup was flipped over to reveal a flower hair clip snug inside. "Oh wait, here it is! I win again! Victory drink!" Her cup was emptied and tapped on the table in a satisfied thud. "I only have . . . ummm . . ."

"Well, you had one left over from last time, and you just got eight more, so nine. You have nine more drinks to go, Isane-chan," Rangiku helped, seeming almost proud of herself.

"God damn," Hisagi said as he analyzed Kotetsu, "She might not make it that far. Hey, where ya going Tetsuo?"

"Breaking the seal," Tetsuo groaned getting up. Putting a hand on Rangiku's shoulder, he said, before sprinting towards the door "_Dobin_ . . ."

Rangiku squeaked and pointed at Hisagi. "Chabin!"

Hisagi pointed right back at her. "Hagechabin!"

"Ichi!" Rangiku exclaimed pointing to Tatsuhusa.

Extending his arm out to point at Kotetsu, something waved over his face and his smile faltered. " . . . maru . . . "

Kotetsu squeaked out "San!" and pointed to the shadows behind her only to see her subject had moved.

Long fingers clasped around the top of Rangiku's flask. Pulling it free, the objects curvature chimed with the chain that looped around her neck and dropped low into the open neck of the uniform. Her eyes were too busy scaling up the figure as he took two well rounded gulps of the specially reserved drink. Her mind traveled between the moments in those seconds, opening up the imagination to multitudes of possibilities. It took someone on the outside to break the trance.

"Ichimaru-fukiticho! Our apologies, we did not see you there, Sir!" Hisagi announced, standing up.

The whole table, save for a drunk Kotetsu, followed Hisagi's example. Rangiku stepped aside, allowing the lieutenant a comfortable gap as he stepped closer to the bench. After recapping the sake, Gin held it out for its owner to reclaim it. She did, and nonchalantly reset it to its original keeping place.

Kotetsu giggled. "I saw him, right as he walked into the door. He walked in with . . . " She hiccuped and her voice turned an adorable tone in anger, "**That stupid snitch Sora Akira!**" she yelled at the guilty figure by the door.

"Now, now, Kotetsu-chan, I was just with him on rounds," grinned Gin, "Besides, if I were here to get you in trouble, I wouldn't 'a paid the toll,"

" 'Toll', Sir?" Tatsuhusa asked.

"You have to pay a drink when joining a game, whether it's by choice or not," explained Rangiku.

"Correct," Gin finished sitting down, "An' thanks to Kotetsu-chan, I know where I'm gonna be for the next few hours. Thank you, Kotetsu-chan. Now, house rules?"

Tetsuo returned to a game of Jaken between Iemura and Rangiku. Where he threw down two out spread fingers, she threw down a fist. The victory cheer echoed in the vacant hall. He cursed.

"Yes! I win! Now you have to do it!" Rangiku commanded to the end of the table. To prove her point, she picked up her cup and took a drink. Iemura and Iba exchanged glasses.

"Awww," complained Iba crinkling his nose, "This feels weird,"

"It does," frowned Iemura, "Oi, Tetsuo, what took you so long?"

"I was talking to Akira before he left. Started fu-," Tetsuo Momohara almost bit through his tongue, catching himself before making a grievous error. "Fukiticho! How are you doing tonight, Sir?"

"Better then I was ten minutes ago," confessed Gin.

"It's good stuff isn't it?" smirked Rangiku.

"Yes Matsumoto-sama, the sweetest nectar from a heavenly valley," answered Gin, abiding by the session's regulations.

"Ahhh . . . ," Tetsuo relaxed in his realization, "Came in late, didn't you? So you're off duty then?"

"For Kami's sake, Tetsuo-kun, sit the hell down," blurted Kotetsu, "We were about to do another round of Kiku No Hana,"

"I don't think you can stand winning another one, Isane-chan," Rangiku commented with concern.

"But, but, but . . . Rangiku-chan, you promised! When we were drinking in your room, you said if I let you -hiccup- win, I could play any game I wanted!"

"Oi! Cheater!" pointed Iba.

Hisagi almost spit out a mouthful of sake. "Wait, how long have you two been drinking?"

"Well, the sun was still out . . ."

"Crafty, crafty, Matsumoto-sama," Gin complimented, being thoroughly amused at the back door arrangement that was brought to light, "You'll do anythin' to be on top, won't ya?"

"I demand a redo!" barked Iemura, slamming his hands down on the table.

"Hey! This is not a democracy, it's a dictatorship!" Rangiku declared, standing to emphasize her point. Reaching across the table, she exchanged the freshly opened bottle with Gin's half empty cup. Holding up her own she yelled "Banzai!" then drank it dry in three large gulps. The smile afterward was sadistically satisfied and significantly more flushed.

There was no question on what had to be done. Every cup had to be emptied. Gin looked at the bottle for a second, trying to measure up the type of challenge it posed. A heavy sigh brought a hand around the green neck, the spout to his lips, and lifted. The bitterness flowed out in a series of rhythmic swallows, none of which were hesitant or interrupted. As it emptied to the last few incriminates, a rush of intoxication swelled and almost caused a sputter. Experience countered and the bump was smoothed over. The hollow glass clanked on the wooden table when he finished.

"Well, damn . . ." someone from the far end of the table commented after switching glasses again.

"See boys," Rangiku smirked, putting a hand on Gin's shoulder for a job well done, "That's how you're so pose to do it!"

The hand lingered for a second, squeezing slightly before dropping away. The dictator sat back down smiling, but defeated within. It had been the first time they touched since she begged him not to leave so many years before. How long has it been now? How many decades have slipped by just noticeable enough to remind of the rift between them, vast and uncrossable. What they had now was better then the nothing she remembered, no matter how impersonal it was. Though, the hurt of having him so near ran a close second.

Iba rolled another bottle down the table, giving a thumbs up in approval. Hisagi raised a cup taking a drink. The others followed suite after refilling.

"You sure know how to take it like a champ, Sir," complimented Tetsuo before receiving a stiff elbow in the side.

"Stop calling him 'sir', you're gonna make it awkward!" Kotetsu whispered loudly.

"What'd say, he picks the next game?" suggested the tattooed shinigami.

"Here, here!"

Gin looked to the ruling head of the table, not wanting to be insubordinate a second time. She waved him off from behind her cup, eyes dancing at Iemura and Iba's forced compliance. She was distracting herself; getting over the moment. He knew the thoughts that plagued her mind, of the years gone by and words unsaid. This was the closet to happiness they were allowed to share and it would have to be enough. He reminded himself of this every day he woke up and went to sleep by himself.

"Double Cup Kiku No Hana!" Gin announced.

Kotetsu Isane squealed.

* * *

Ending Notes: I hope everyone was able to grasp the setting easily enough. For those who missed it, I was thinking of the later academy years for Hinamori, Kira and the obvious lieutenant status of Gin. The comment Gin made after Aizen's insinuation is in no way a flame. I borrowed the quote from one of the recent Arrancar Encyclopedias where the same insinuation was made. Thoughtful reviews are more then welcome & that includes the notes. The second part will be up in about a week.

Translation Notes: I couldn't help but run with the translation of Kotetsu Isane's ( 虎徹 勇音) name when writing her character. The whole name translates with _Kotetsu_ as "tiger" or "drunkard" / "penetrate" or "strike home" or "sit up (all night)" and _Isane_ as "courage" / "sound".

"Kiku no hana, kiku no hana, akete tanoshii, kiku no hana," roughly translates to "Chrysanthemum flower, chrysanthemum flower, it's fun to see what's underneath, chrysanthemum flower." (The game with the flower pin hidden under the cups)


	2. Choices

"Alright boys," Ichimaru Gin started. He just finished placing the cups on the tray, proud of the perfected pattern. The house mandated sixteen cups spiraled outward in four directions; a masterpiece on any drunkard's table. "Gotta a new rule. If it's less then eight cups, ya gotta take the ones still flipped an' you're the new 'Baka' for next round. Got it?"

"That's not fair!" cried Iemura.

"I think it is," agreed Tetsuo.

"Yea, it avoid cheaters," Hisagi glared playfully at the blond across from him.

Rangiku turned her nose up, appalled. "I have no idea what you are talking about,"

"Sure you don't, Baka . . ." Gin antagonized, choosing to indulge in the last of his cup rather the finger stretched face she made at him. Pushing the tray to the next in line "Keep it up, Baka, 'an your face'll stay that way. Now earn your title,"

"Hey, I think Kotetsu-chan's gone," commented Iba, poking her unconscious state.

"Awwww . . ." grumbled Iemura, "I don't want to have to roll her back to Fourth . . ."

"I'm sure she'll wake when the time comes," Rangiku said, stretching around to look at her passed out friend, "Anyone got a pen?"

"Baka, you're horrible," mused the table's long standing reagent, "Everyone knows ya never mess with a lady's face,"

"Yea?" inquired Hisagi as he inspected Tatsuhusa, propped up on one arm. A non-responsive flick to the ear curled a wider grin. "What about guys?"

"Now that," Gin smiled, reaching into his kimono, "Is a different story," The flushed lieutenant produced two opportunities for mischief, a green and a red marker, that were split between the victim's flanking parties. Slamming an hand on the table, he pressed more. "Oi, Baka, take your turn! We don' have all night, ya know,"

"I'm goin', I'm goin'," Rangiku replied, brows twisted in indecision. There was something amiss here. Gin was too confident with such odds stack ageist him. There was no way; directly next to impossible. The cups were shuffled _after_ the pin was hidden. _Even then_, a fresh game was open for her choosing. Scanning over the cups, a decision was made. Her hand covered it down to the base, finger molesting a chip in its frame. Returning the glare, a deep breath was taken in, puffing out her chest in confidence as she began to chant. "Kiku no hana, kiku no hana! _Akete tanoshii_," The cup was lifted, "Kiku no hana!"

The scent was potent. The obvious smell of sake was built on an undertone of a spice that Rangiku could only know by one name. Tingling in the back of her throat, it reawakened memories of even colder, but less bitter, nights where it's presence meant safety and contentment. She looked to the tray.

"Baka, you have the worst luck I have ever seen!" laughed Hisagi, the first one to see her lost.

Directly under the clay cup was Kotetsu's pink and blue clip. Somehow, in face of all other probable statistics, the flower was uncovered on the first try. Rangiku couldn't believe herself . . . or him.

"You have to drink _sixteen cups_, Matsumoto-chan. Do you know what that means?" asked Iba.

"You're cut off!" sang the sunglassed pair the end of the table. With a sweeping chops, they cut through the air.

Iemura fished up a fresh bottle out and rolled it. Dipping down a second time, he pulled up the remaining set and put them on the table. "Last two,"

"Let me do the honors, _Baka-sama," _said Gin, opening the bottle and topping off her cup.

"I . . . just don't believe it," Rangiku near-whispered, still caught between being flabbergasted and amused. She scanned the spiral, trying to figure out how the ruse was played. All the glazed clay surfaces looked the same. Not one of them were new or overly worn. There were nics and dings from everyday use, but nothing that made any particular one unique. The table lantern held the key, its glow unlocking the secret off the glossy surface. Realization dawned on her. "I knew there was a catch! And you called me 'crafty', _Nogitsune-sama,_"

"I prefer _Myōbu_," Gin toasted her cup in his habitual smile, making them both take a drink.

Accepting her fate, Rangiku once again drank the whole of her cup in one sitting. While her decisions may be bad, she still had her pride as a drinker and wouldn't accept charity from no one. Swallowing it down as fast as possible created a bubble that swelled in the back of her throat. The resulting belch resonated off the far wall, returning several decibels softer.

"Awww, that's cute," mocked Iemura.

"Yea, right up there with kittens," muttered Hisagi, "Now what're we going to do with the last bottle?"

"But there's two . . ." Tetsuo pondered out loud.

"Bakamono!" Rangiku yelled, pointing over table and people alike at the offender. There was an angry spike in her tone.

It was then Hisagi's squad mate was introduced to a standard rule of thumb when drinking in the halls of the Gouti 13. Shinigami are soldiers and only in death does their duty truly end. More are lost to the battlefield then will ever be admitted; an understanding only experience can give. When comrades drink, the last bottle is put aside for a new day. The hope is that all those who joined will reunite. The last bottle must always be saved.

"An' so ya don' forget, ya get ta drink half of Baka-sama's cups for her. Hear that," Gin tapped her shoulder and held up the new number, "You only have ta drink seven now,"

"Ichimaru-sama! What the hell!" objected Tetsuo.

"Shut up and get your ass over there. Should probably move anyway . . ." Hisagi suggested, adding a rosy spiral to Tatsuhusa's cheek. Capping the red marker, a collective breath was held when the target snorted to the verge of waking up. Adding a steady snore to his sleeping rhythm, Tatsuhusa remained ignorant. "See what I mean?"

The circle shifted left, started by Tetsuo's reluctant move to play by the rules. He stumbled to the other side of Rangiku and sat with a heavy thud, the others following in the same fashion. 'The Wall', as the unmovable pair were dubbed, slept through continued entertainment. The games became more docile as the ceramics stacked higher. A lot had been cleared in the hours they sat there. Narrow bottle necks towered over piles of empty cups, one of the many faces of a night well spent.

Gin eventually lost his title to Tetsuo through an ill fated game of Jaken. They both received prods of encouragement and jeers of shameful repercussions from all parts of the circle. Reaching over the table to legitimize throws, Rangiku was squeezed to the edge of her seat to avoid getting bashed in the heat of the moment. A third and final round was needed to nullify the stalemate, each having been dubbed a win.

"I'm coming for you, Ichimaru!"

"Let's see what ya got, little man!"

"Oi! Are you gonna let him talk to you like that, Onigiri?" Hisagi taunted.

"_Onigiri_?" Iemura choked, dribbling half a mouthful back into his cup.

"I'll tell you after Onigiri-chan loses," promised the shinigami next to him.

"Damn you, Hisagi, I'm gonna make you pay for that," Turning back to the Fifth Division Lieutenant with a fire in his glossed eyes, Tetsuo threw out a fist , "Draw, Ichimaru!"

"Ichi!" The two roared.

"Ni!" The rest of the table joined.

"San!" Hands were thrown up and slammed down in celebration of the moment.

When they landed on the table, Gin's fist was trumped by Tetsuo's flat hand. The shinigami jumped, celebrating his first win of the night and threw a victory gesture in his squad mate's face. Hisagi returned the favor in kind, sparking a bout of wild arm motions and facial expressions that became more offensive and vulgar the longer it went. The king and his fool having a contest; the irony of it all. Sweeping his arms out, Tetsuo pushed both hands inches from Hisagi's face in a particularly obscene formation. Hisagi retaliated, grabbing the shinigami's sleeves and they locked together over the table, playfully punching each others' sides.

Several times the Ninth Squad members swung beyond their range of personal space. Each time she dodged and evaded; the magnificently agile creature she was. Gin held his breath as another stray skimmed dangerously close. She pulled away from it barely unscathed, a text book curve etched in her back. She had always been lazy; putting out the bare minimum to get something done. He exhaled slowly. The girl he knew was still the same.

"Beat his ass, Tetsuo-sama!" yelled Iba in true Squad Eleven fashion, taking a step back.

"Watch it!" Rangiku protested, inching over further.

"Guys, maybe you should-" Iemura started, "Iba, what the hell! You're drinking the whole thing!" The Fourth Squad officer tried to snatch the communal bottle, but missed as his target moved away from the table.

Tetsuo dropped his playmate and charged the thief, effectively ending the night. Hisagi slid over the table into Tatsuhusa and toppled over the edge. They landed with a distinct crunch. A painfully irritated groan covered a stifled laugh.

"Oden with fukuro_, _please!" Kotetsu shot up before letting out a deep yawn. With sleep laden eyes, she slowly began to piece things together.

Even after being tackled to floor, Iba still managed a tight hold on the bottle. Tetsuo scaled toward the outreached hand, just about to reach the prize when a sandal pushed him back down. "Hisagi toppled 'The Wall'! ", Iba declared, wiping his mouth clean.

With a quick grab and roll, Tetsuo eyed the bottle. "Awww you bastard! There's nothing left!"

"Wasn't too much in there anyway," muttered the shinigami, barely managing to stand on his own.

"Alright, Sleeping Beauty, let's get you up and movin'," Hisagi helped the larger shinigami to his feet.

"Guys," Tatsuhusa sat on the bench, cradling his head. The groans, burps, and gaggles from the other side of his wide back mixed with Hisagi's disgust writ face spelled a mess of trouble, literally. "Guys, think I might need help gettin-" He cut himself off when a 'gurbble' erupted out of his gut. A hand went to his mouth.

"Don' puke on my floor," Gin said, pointing a stern finger.

With another spasm, Tetsuhusa shoulder checked pass Hisagi, pushed Iba back to the ground, threw open the door and up heaved the contents of his stomach onto the snow.

The clock tower rang the last bell of the night; half past midnight.

"Guess we're finished, huh?" frowned Rangiku. She looked over the table at the floor, "Damn you two, I'm gonna have to replace those," she glared at Hisagi.

"Gomen . . . Motsumoto-chan," Hisagi replied sincerely, though his attention was somewhere else. Bearing witness to another round of spasms, he continued to laugh as the Eighth division's shame vomited outside. "I'll get-" His eyes narrowed, smile turning stern. "Tetsuo! Get your ass over here an' clean up the mess you made!"

The accused hesitated only for a second, stopping his slow creep toward freedom. Looking over his shoulder, Tetsuo bolted outside with Hisagi hot on his trail. Iba shouted, following them into the snow. Rangiku sighed.

-

-

-

"Are you sure? I mean, I'll help finish up -" Iemura started.

"Just go; you did your part. Besides, seems like there's enough on your hands," Rangiku smiled, patting Kotetsu. With attentions being drawn elsewhere, it wasn't long before she put her head back to the table and went to sleep. "Get under the other arm and lift on three. One...two...three!"

"Ehh...?" cooed a drowsy voice, "What's going on?"

"Gotta keep you on your feet, Isane-chan, least till you get home," Rangiku dipped out from under her friend, "Got her, Iemura?"

"I can do it on my -hiccup- own!" objected Kotetsu. Pushing her squad mate away, she stood proudly before slowly tipping sideways. Iemura reached out and pulled her back, wrapping a hand around her shoulder.

"I know you can, Isane-chan, but lean on Iemura-kun till you get back; it'll make it easier," suggested Rangiku as she walked with them toward the door.

"I guess you're right . . . But you better not get fresh!" she threatened Iemura with renewed zeal.

"With the wrath of Unohana-ticho breathing down my neck, I wouldn't dare," he reassured, shifting Kotetsu's weight. A keen eye glimpsed a twinkle from behind the sunglasses, sneaking a quick peek down the loose uniform neck. "But I can dream . . ." he muttered, starting to walk.

"Alright, 'cause there was enough of that already going on and I don't want none of it!"

Rangiku stopped and a hard crease formed in her brow. "Who was feelin' up on you Isane-chan?" Pushing up the black sleeves to her elbows, she marched vigorously to the door. "I'll knock 'em silly!"

Ignoring Kotetsu's manic giggling, Iemura sighed. Looking over his shoulder, he tilted his head to see. Pupils skimming over the frame of Iba's sunglasses linked with the enraged shinigami. In them, Rangiku saw a wave doubt, derailing all thoughts of vengeance.

"Oi! What's that for?" She was totally confounded.

"Seriously, Matsumoto?" he replied, being drawn into her confusion. "I mean if -Hey!" Iemura was twisted around.

Kotetsu, took in a breath to regain composure before her smile curled wickedly to one side. "I wasn't talking about me, _Rangiku-chan_," Her focus wavered; washed over eyes drifting freely to the side. With a double blink and a stern refocus, she pulled herself back together. "Come on, Iemura-kun, you need to take me home,"

-

-

-

He watched Rangiku contemplate; focus drifting over the hall to its occupants. She shook off the brewing notion, stacking unbroken cups on the tray. She listened to Iemura grumble as he piled trash and bottles into the basket. Setting two exceptions aside, the sealed bottle and its halved counterpart resurrected ideas so tantalizing, Gin wondered if she felt the teeth biting her bottom lip. When she finally spoke, her voice cracked and so did his smile. From the spot along the kitchen wall, Gin watched her flip out the shoulder length hair and wave Iemura off when he questioned her reasoning. Patting her friend's head, Rangiku was firmly set in her excuse.

With Kotetsu Isane's verbal slip and Rangiku's disproportioned rage, Gin thought it best to step in before words turned too careless. Shouldering the long handled dustpan, he almost dropped the broom when Iemura spoke. Kotetsu's impressively quick reaction abruptly silenced the loosened tongue. Following a playful tease, a decision was made to withdraw after seeing the lieutenant.

Gin was aware of his wrongdoing. It began when he played into Kotetsu's ill-advised invitation and would end when he locked up the hall. Whatever else happened that night, behind closed doors was where it would most definitely stay. Even then, he had to be careful. Falling into the temptation of overindulgence held grave consequences. Fortunately, the chance of Aizen Souske staying ignorant weighed heavily in Gin's favor, as did the official scheduling where he was listed as 'off duty'. 'One must exert great control in order to obtain anything of true value', Gin remembered being lectured in the early days of his career. If his mentor could only see how well the advice was being used, it might actually surprise the Captain. _Or enrage him . . ._ he pondered with a second thought. Aizen's unregimented wrath was among the rarest breeds of cruelty.

Leaning on the broomstick, Gin wondered when he should wake the daydreamer. Over Rangiku's shoulder, he watched Kotetsu and Iemura leave, pausing briefly before slamming of the door. Still she stood, lost within the depths of herself, disconnected from the world. He looked her over, seeing his swamped haired girl from North Rukongai before the voluptuous bombshell whispered about in the halls of the Tenth. The line he would have to walk now would be particularly thin. His earlier digression was inexcusable.

The moment the Ninth Squad nakama threw down, it was only a matter of time before the game got out of hand. When it did, Rangiku scooted as far away as she could, playing that uneasy game of agility. Every throw and sideswipe, block and parry, inched her further and further away until she pressed Gin's shoulder with nowhere else to go. Seeing an unavoidable harm deflected her way, his arm looped around her waist and pulled her to safety. That was Gin's moment of inner failing; losing himself to instinct. Fortunately, it was disguised as a rescue. She didn't protest or pull away, only wiggled herself comfortable and yelled across the table. When the pair crashed to the floor, she moved to get a better look.

Walking into the situation, the lieutenant knew what he was doing was a blatant act of insubordination, but it wasn't until after-the-fact did Gin realize where he'd erred. It had been reflexive, something so much a part of him that its existence was undeniable yet nameless. In the rescue's wake his gaze fell upon Tetsuo, the owner of a nearly fatal backhand. Gin wouldn't have known if it wasn't for a certain low ranking officer. Shifting to a blur in his peripheral, there was Iemura, stuck between shock and terrified before submissively looking away to play peace maker. Livid blood had boiled to the surface in the absence of logic and bore a witness. His failure was complete and it posed a very real and dangerous problem.

Gin sighed and readjusted the broomstick. He was uneasy, but knew it would stay confidential. Iemura was no one's fool and the price hung on that conversation was as heavy as a long-standing lieutenant's word, and later his sword.

Then there was Kotetsu. She wouldn't remember anything past sunset. Though, Gin could have sworn she was asleep the entire time.

"You were totally all up in my lap earlier, ya know," Gin stated with a glow of amusement.

"Shut up." Rangiku elbowed him and snatched the broom. She sleeked down the walkway to gather pieces of scattered wreckage.

Clanking the dustpan on the floor, Gin coaxed her into a game. Rangiku played along, taking aim with the larger pieces and sweeping smaller bits into a collective mound. Every couple shots, Gin would turn the opening or move the bin aside, letting the piece skip across the floor. He stuck out his tongue as another missed the mark. On her last shot, Rangiku aimed carefully, making sure to hit the target. Turning the angle of the straws one last time, she flung the glass in a perfect streamline. Gin jerked the dustpan in front of him, catching the bottle shard just in time. With a long whistle, he gave in and met her.

Sweeping the pile into the bin, Rangiku held her breath. How long had she been watching the snow melt? She remembered dazing at the thin coat of white as it swirled through the open gap and settled in a pile when the room sealed. She wasn't so pose to think of Gin as she did and that's what she was still lost on. Accepting him as the lieutenant of the Fifth Squad wasn't nearly as hard as forgetting what they use to be. Now, the down had melted into cold puddles, slowly on its way to becoming temperate on the floor.

"Hmm?"

"If ya get the cups, you can follow me ta' the back. Gotta dump trash an' such," Gin reiterated.

Rangiku nodded, resigning the broom back into Gin's care. Picking up the tray carefully, she watched him empty the dustpan into the basket before slinging it and the broom over his shoulder. With the other hand, he gripped the thick handles and peaked over his shoulder before leading the way to the kitchen. Balancing the night's clean up, Gin held the door with his foot, waiting for her to pass.

"What's that for?" he asked when she half smiled.

"Been a while since someone's held a door for me," Rangiku said, adding the tray to the other sullied dishes.

"That's a shame," Gin commented, setting the cleaning implements aside. Looking in the basket, his mouth twisted into a frown. "You don' want this thing, do ya?"

"Naaaa, just trash it,"

Gin lifted the tightly woven market basket and let the whole of it slid down the trash chute. Holding the lid open, he listened as it crashed in the dumpster. An amplified shatter rang up the duct and roared into the kitchen. Together, they smiled at the chaos.

"That was cool," she said over the ringing in her head.

Twisting a finger in his ear, Gin chuckled, "Yea it is. Too bad it works both ways; I've caught people in here a couple times doin' rounds,"

"Remind me to stay away from kitchens then," Rangiku giggled on her way out.

"Don' think I gotta remind you of – Hey!" The light was snuffed and Gin left alone in the dark. She watied for him on the other side, leaning on the spot he favored earlier. When she stuck out her tongue, he grinned. "Smart ass," he mused before locking the door with the division's skeleton key. "You're in Tenth, right?"

"Unfortunately. Really sucks bein' without a Captain," Rangiku sighed. Walking back to the table, she sat down with a thud. "I'm exhausted. Guess we're finished?"

"Think so, just gotta put out the lights," Gin tucked the key ring into his kimono and exhaled slowly. "I could always get you a transfer, if ya ever wanted one,"

"I dunno," Eyes jumping to the floor as he sat across from her, "For some reason, I know we'll be okay,"

"It's good you have faith in the future of your squad," the lieutenant complimented, looking over the half-filled bottle.

Rangiku shot straight up, " 'Course I do! Tenth Squad has the fortitude of a drunk ox! Nothing'll ever keep us down!"

"A drunk ox, huh?" Gin grinned, caressing the raised kanji on the vermillion surface. "Such imagery,"

"I have the mind of a true poet," she assured, "Just always gets lost on the way out,"

"As wit' many of us," Gin muttered, looking through the open spout, "Ano . . . Ran-chan, why don' we finish this. Not much left, an' no use in lettin' a good drink go ta waste,"

"I don't know if that's kosher, Gin," Rangiku said flatly, changing gears impressively fast, "Our relationship will always be _different_. There's still a lot unsaid between us."

"It's true," he admitted before taking a deep drink from the bottle, "But if we just focus on the here, an' the now, we can finish this together an' still leave happy," He put it back on the table, just within her reach. To his unrealized joy, she pulled the alcohol in front of her, holding the base with both hands.

Rangiku's fingers drummed the glass, as she fought to word herself properly, "One condition. Promise me . . .," a painful blink brought their eyes together, "Promise me one day you'll tell me why. The 'whole why', not a half-assed, 'Ichimaru why', "

_God damn promises,_ Gin spited, dethroned from his seat of power by his Ran-chan's words, "One day, when all is said an' done, I will tell you why things happened the way they did. I promise Rangiku,"

"Good," Her drink from the bottle mirrored Gin's, face twisting with bitterness, "So, when should I start callin' you Ichimaru-ticho?"

Time passed with each alternating drink. Together they joked about squad dealings and academy experiences. Every now and then, the topics jumped to a time before, of stolen fish cooked on an open fire, or chasing dragonflies through the summer heat. Rangiku told Gin the real story of how Sora Akira lost his night's freedom. He'd guessed right, though he never thought his Fifth Seat was the type to so drastically overplay his hand. Apparently, she cheated on that win too. It served Sora right, she assured him, and seemed perfectly satisfied with the entertainment that had been provided.

"They're a mess, aren't they?" she smiled, handing back the bottle, "Ya know, it wouldn't a' happened if you didn' let Tetsuo win,"

"Yea . . . but then how would I have gotten you to stay an' clean up wit' me?"

"I would'a stayed anyway," she stated a-matter-of-factly, "I don't leave my mess for others,"

" 'Cause then you'll get caught," Gin smiled, reading the twinkle in her brilliant eyes. He drank and gave the bottle over.

"Damn right," The base of the bottle was lifted high as Rangiku took in the last drink of the night. An empty bottle never felt so heavy. "That's the end of our night, isn't it?"

"It is and we gotta keep it that way," Gin reaffirmed, trying to distance himself from the somber in his tone, "Want the last bottle?"

"You keep it. That way, you'll owe me next time," She couldn't even try to smile, just stood, stretched, and fixed her uniform to better handle the cold walk back to Tenth.

"Deal," Gin said with a more convincing facade, his mask far more tempered then her's would ever have to be. Grabbing the empty bottle, he turned away, using its disposal as an excuse not to watch her leave. "Try an' stay warm or somethin'," he waved her off as the footsteps got further and further away.

Gin pulled out the key ready to unlock the kitchen door. Winter's chill rushed around him, its bite stinging to the bone. It died following a soft clank of the exterior door. His jaw tightened, grinding teeth in forever-resented frustration. Jamming the key into the hole, he flung the bottle at the chute. It missed, shattering on the wall.

The final task was to snuff the laterns. Its better this way he told himself, knowing it was the wiser choice. The whole point of the night was to make sure she was, and will be, okay. The day she graduated into the Protection Squads he started watching her file, evaluating her performance, monitoring her assignments. For all Aizen knew, he was looking for potential in other squads, never something outwardly encouraged by Captains, but understood. His final judgment was that she was perfectly capable of handling herself.

The last table held a surprise. Next to the bottle stood the clay flask, unopened since Gin paid his dues. He stared at it, not sure of what to do. He couldn't leave it, but he couldn't take it ether. Sending it to back would raise unaffordable suspicions. The notion of throwing it away rose a wave of guilt.

Blowing out the last flame, Gin took an object in each hand, hoping he'd followed the right set of prints in the snow.


End file.
